_________________"MISSION 2: DESTROY AN ENEMY AIRCRAFT CARRIER. Alright. Fine. As long as I don't have to f*cking land on it!!!"-Angry Video Game Nerd, NES Top Gun review

Fritz Ashlyn

Post subject:

Posted: Wed Feb 20, 2008 7:15 pm

Traitor Villain

Joined: Tue Mar 07, 2006 1:32 amPosts: 3147Location: Texas Gulf Coast

AUGUST 27, 0087 - AMMAN

The port that concealed the Dervish, the damaged rebel Irish-class, was swamped with crew led by the boisterous Chief Polk. Clanging tools and shouting men filled the ship as they worked to repair all the structures and systems damaged in the Dervish's last battle at Side 2. The mechanics and support crew had to yell to each other over the whirr of equipment, but the noise inside was muffled by metal walls and snaking corridors, and to the lone individual standing at street level outside at a lonely car stand it had died down to intermittent thumps and echos. Another cigarette butt fell to the pavement and was crushed under Fritz Ashlyn's heel.

Even with the closely controlled climate, the dock area was humid and carried the odor of machinery and canned air. The sheltered lunar city of Amman's grimy industrial section was home to the local spaceport, and it also served as headquarters for the AEUG 4th Advance Squadron. The cigarette was soon replaced by another, and Fritz sighed as a wisp of smoke rose up to add to the pollution.

He slid his hands into his pockets and leaned against one of the stand's support pillars. He had been waiting there since 0950, and the dim clock across the street now read 1044. "Yo, Fred," a voice called out somewhere behind him, and the scraping of footsteps sped up as the speaker approached. "I'm not in the mood, Eddie. You're late," Fritz groused, flicking the cigarette away as he turned to greet his counterpart for the day. Eckardy grinned and shrugged off the admonition. "I'm here, aren't I? Some of us have an active social life. Nice jacket. Didn't know you had an eye for fashion," Eddie chuckled, and Fritz frowned and looked down at his attire. "My wife picked it out. I don't have much to wear other than uniforms any more," he rationalized, explaining away the bright green blazer.

Fritz reached into his pocket and produced a transportation pass to take one of the waiting mini cars and Eddie walked over to the passenger side. As he waited for the doors to unlock, Eckardy prodded, "We can't all be on the cutting edge of 80's attire,". As the tiny electric car hummed to life, Fritz shook his head and half-heartedly warned, "I said, I'm not in the mood,". The fact was, compared to the way he felt just a few days ago, this was paradise. The strain he had felt for most of the last month had somehow melted away once he returned home to the moon and his wife.

That attitude, that the moon was "home" now, was itself a huge step forward. Eddie leaned back in the passenger seat and his smile faded a bit as he acknowledged, "Hasn't exactly been our week, has it? Or month. Or war...". That admission silenced both men. The car accelerated down the deserted dockside street and turned out onto one of the more prominent industrial boulevards.

As they merged into crosstown traffic, Eddie cleared his throat and attempted to salvage the conversation. "There's not much good to talk about, is there... have you heard anything else about Commodore Blex?" he asked as he began to tap his fingers on his knee. He frowned and added, "And how's Michiko doing?". Fritz' look darkened and he shook his head, "The commodore was assassinated in his hotel room at Dakar. That's as specific as they've gotten with me. I know Lt. Bajeena from the Argama was acting as his bodyguard. I would assume the major sponsors will have a meeting... as soon as Wong and Gates are done later today with the 4th's performance review,".

Eckardy sucked in his breath at the term "performance review". Fritz cast a glance over at Eddie, and finding him staring out the window he continued, "When they told us the dropped colony was confirmed as 27th Bunch, I thought we'd have to put Michiko on suicide watch, but she really kept it together well. We got her to calm down after the initial shock and a couple of us stayed with her in her quarters for a while...". Eddie clucked in sympathy and disappointment. "Didn't think I'd ever see another drop," he sighed, shaking his head, "I really didn't,".

His vision dropped and he explained quietly, "We all joined this outfit for our own personal reasons, but we all know what the Titans stand for and what they're capable of... They're just Federally sponsored terrorists,". All Fritz could do was nod in agreement. He kept his vision on the road as he remarked, "You put it almost perfectly. Terrorism has always existed, and the greatest, most successful perpetrators and purveyors of terrorism have almost always been governments,".

His grip tightened on the wheel and he continued, "I should know. I've seen it firsthand. ...You know what a guillotine is, don't you Eddie?". Eckardy shifted slightly in his seat and nodded almost uncomfortably. Fritz pressed on, "You feel the connotations of finality and violence when you hear the word, and yet a guillotine hasn't been used for nearly 300 years. The revolutionary Jacobins in old France coined the term 'terrorist' to describe themselves; they created a government to rule by fear. Living without fear of your own government is a privilege that most people in history never got to experience. That is what the Titans are taking away from the people of Earth and space,".

Eddie exhaled heavily and crossed his arms. "Jeez, this day sucks enough already. Remind me to avoid 'current events' next time, Mr. Small Talk," he needled, his voice sounding tired already. "You asked," Fritz said as he reached inside his jacket and produced a pair of sunglasses. As he slipped them on he asked, "How about something you haven't heard?". Eddie humphed at the suggestion and shrugged, "I guess it can't get any worse,". Fritz turned off the main road they had been traveling on and steered the car onto a residential street.

Apartment buildings and local shops replaced the industrial road they had been following, and traffic thinned out considerably. Fritz slowed the car down and as he began looking for a specific address, he divulged, "Yesterday we were able to confirm that A Baoa Qu and Gryps have been relocated to near Luna II,". Eddie cursed quietly and groaned, "Oh, well thank you for that,". He rubbed his eyes and looked around at the neighborhood they had entered. "I've never been to this part of town. Roy never talked about his place, but he did show us pictures of his daughters," he explained.

Fritz shook his head, "Me either,". He looked over at Eddie again and said, "You don't have to do this, you know,". Eddie thought about it for a second before shaking his head, "I know. But I want to,". The car came to a stop outside an unassuming single-story apartment building. Fritz exited the car and pointed at a gated entrance, explaining, "The address is for a flat on the other side of the courtyard,". The men entered the open area in the middle of the complex, their footsteps echoing off the high walls surrounding them, and Eddie quickly spotted the apartment they were looking for.

They paused just outside the door. Fritz took off his shades and slid them back into his jacket, and put out his cigarette. Eddie took a deep breath and nervously smoothed the front of his shirt before nodding that he was ready. Fritz waited another moment before he reached out and knocked curtly on the door. After a few seconds, they could hear someone moving inside, and soon the deadbolt clicked open. The door cracked a few inches, the chain lock still attached, and a young woman's face appeared in the opening.

She looked anxious at the sight of the two plain-clothes AEUG officers, and behind her another young female voice called out, "Who is it, Amalia?". The girl's vision shifted between Fritz and Eddie, and she asked quietly, "Who are you? What do you want?". Eddie stepped closer to the doorway, and Amalia flinched as if she were resisting the urge to back away and shut the door. "We're with the same group of concerned citizens as your father..." Eddie explained, his voice low, "We'd like to come in and talk with you,".

Roy's daughter hesitated, and the door closed. Fritz looked at Eddie and shrugged, "I don't blame her. Two strange--", but he was interrupted by the sound of the chain being undone. Amalia opened the door, and the duo were greeted by the sight of two concerned young ladies waiting for them in the small entry area of the apartment. "What's going on? Who are you?" the younger of the two asked. They didn't move out of the way or beckon them into the room.

Eddie prepared to explain the situation a little better, but Fritz interjected, "May we come in? This is important,". He stepped forward and rested his left arm lightly against the door. It was an old trick he was taught to make someone feel comfortable enough to let you inside. "It's about dad," the younger girl coaxed her sister, giving her a nudge as she looked the men over. Amalia sighed and relented, moving out of the way and timidly gesturing to a modest living room. "Please, sit down. This is my sister, Limia," she said, introducing the other girl as she offered seats to the men on one side of a small table.

Both pilots nodded politely to Limia and took seats facing the girls, who looked as if they didn't really want to hear what the AEUG was here to tell them. Eddie cleared his throat and introduced himself, "I'm LtCmdr. Eckardy from the Dervish. Your father's commanding officer,". The girls exchanged pleasantries with him, and then looked expectantly to Fritz, who shifted in his seat and finally acknowledged, "LtCmdr. Ashlyn... One of Mr. Eckardy's associates,".

Eddie nodded solemnly and continued, "Ms. Grunwald, I felt that it was my personal duty to inform you in person that your father was killed in action at Side 2,". Amalia knew what was coming and managed to maintain her composure, but Limia burst into tears as soon as Eddie was halfway through his sentence. Amalia clutched her sister closer to comfort her as Eddie continued, "I know it won't lessen the blow, but you might take some comfort knowing that he passed instantly,".

Fritz cast a questioning glance as Eddie, whose vision had dropped to the floor. That last part certainly wasn't true, from what he had been told. Limia continued to cry as her sister held her, but Amalia's emotions were becoming difficult to read. "So you were the one in charge of our father?" she asked Eddie, a hint of sharpness at the edge of her voice that was startlingly different from the timid girl who had answered the door. Eddie met her gaze and nodded. She reached across the table and slapped Eddie full across his face.

Eddie recoiled in shock, but managed to keep his wits about him well enough to discreetly reach over to grab Fritz' wrist as the other man instinctively began to rise from his seat. "How dare you get our father killed and then show your face here! It's no wonder you didn't have the guts to face us alone!" Amalia condemned him, clutching her sister closer. Eddie's jaw set and his eyes wandered down to his hands, but he offered no resistance. He knew excuses wouldn't make things any easier. Fritz fidgeted next to him, uncomfortable at the girls' reactions and the way that Eddie had been waylaid.

He felt like he had to do something. He cleared his throat quietly, drawing the hateful gaze of Amalia. What to say? Fritz drew himself up and explained, "I feel like you should know that I'm the unit commander for the ship your father served on,". Amalia's expression changed. "So you're his boss?" she demanded, pointing at Eddie. Fritz nodded slowly as Limia pulled away from her older sister to leave the room. The look of hatred and disgust on Amalia's face kept Fritz from attempting to say anything further. "You..." she whispered, angrily searching for the right words.

"You bastards," she finally spat, her hands balled into fists. She stood up and pointed past them at the door, her body starting to tremble, "Out. Get out of our home, you murderers. I don't ever want to see you or hear from the damned AEUG ever again. You should be happy I don't go to the Federation. You should be dead, not my father. You should have died!". Fritz was blown away. Despite everything he had seen in his life, all the war and anger and violence, this struck a nerve that he had assumed was dead and gone.

He had been threatened, denounced and challenged face to face on many occasions, by a frightened and oppressed people that he now realized were mostly right to hate what he was a part of. But this was different. He flinched when Eddie's hand came to rest on his shoulder. "Let's go..." Eddie murmured, already heading for the door. As he was leaving, Fritz looked back and saw that Amalia had finally broken down and was crying into her hands.

The short walk back to the car was silent, as was most of the drive back to the docks. As they were turning back onto the industrial street they had started out on, Eddie finally spoke up. "That went well..." he muttered, his tone humorless, but the smallest hint of his normal attitude resurfacing. Fritz thought about it for a moment as he steered the rental back into the stand it was taken from. "I have to be at that review meeting with Capt. Abbey and Mr. Gates..." he said as they stopped under the stand, ready to part ways for the moment, "But if you want to talk later...".

Eckardy put his hands in his pockets and shook his head, "I dunno, man. I need to get some rest and clear my head. Ask me again tomorrow,". Fritz nodded, understanding where he was at the moment. "Tomorrow, then,". The clock across the street read 1150.

Wolf Ritter waited. The lights above him blinked and sparked out of the air. There were AEUG in the colony. He didn't see them, but had expected them now for months. His warnings to Captin Trent were not listenend to and now it was too late. Far too late for now, anyway. Wolf was a MS pilot for eight years. When he was young he watched the spaceships and he said to dad "I want to be on the ships daddy."
Dad said "No! You will BE KILL BY SPACENOIDS"
There was a time when he believed him. Then as he got oldered he stopped. But now in the space colony base of the EFSF he knew there were AEUGs.
"This is Trent" the radio crackered. "You must fight the AEUG!"
So Wolf gotted his baem rifle and blew up the wall.
"HE GOING TO KILL US" said the spacenoids
"I will shoot at him" said Fritz and he fired the clay round shells. Wolf baemed at him and tried to blew him up. But then the ceiling fell and they were trapped and not able to kill.
"No! I must kill the AEUG" he shouted
The radio said "No, Wolf. You are the AEUG"
And then Wolf was a spacenoid.

Hey! why don't you swing on down to the RPG section? Tales from the Frontlines: The AEUG running strong since 2006!

Antares

Post subject:

Posted: Tue Mar 11, 2008 7:14 am

Retconned MSV Ace

Joined: Tue Oct 03, 2006 3:44 amPosts: 1695Location: Finland

How sad is it that I get the reference? Epic remake. Could've used Setsuna, who in the end becomes Gundam.

_________________-We will not be caught by surprise!
*Almost everyone I've killed uttered similar last words.
-Then I am glad once again that you are on my side.
*They've often said that too.

Fritz Ashlyn

Post subject:

Posted: Sat Mar 14, 2009 4:57 pm

Traitor Villain

Joined: Tue Mar 07, 2006 1:32 amPosts: 3147Location: Texas Gulf Coast

OCTOBER 15, 0087 - SIDE 2, NEAR 21ST BUNCH

"You could have gotten the kid killed, Pan!" Fritz shouted, angry at Pan's dismissive attitude. The Team 1 ready room was occupied only by Fritz and Pan as they bickered over Heyden's decision to ignore a retreat order with Jim following him. "Were fine, aren't we? Give me a break," Pan said as he tried to light a cigarette. Fritz snatched it out of his hand and threw it away. He growled, "So help me, if you put ideas in Jim's head that get him killed--". "What? You'll kill me? Like to see you try," Pan said, plucking the smoke out of the air where it floated, "They sent us out here to protect the Argama while they tried to 'negotiate' with a bunch of rock-humping space queers and it got us shot up. So we try to land at Quebec and it gets us shot up again. You might have noticed they haven't been able to take me out yet. The kid ain't gonna get killed if he sticks with me,".

"With that attitude, you're going to get yourself killed. Jim is headstrong enough without you setting an example for him," Fritz responded, reigning in his anger a bit. He didn't need his team falling apart in the middle of a combat operation. It was better to back off and let Pan have his way for now. He knew part of their animosity was fueled by adrenaline left over from fighting the EFSF outside 21st. If they stayed away from each other for a while, they would calm down.

NOVEMBER 16, 0087 - AMMAN

"Now that took some balls. Kinda surprises me the Karaba had it in 'em," Pan said, leaning his chair onto its two back legs as he lit a new cigarette. A small group of AEUG crew sat clustered around a TV set watching Char's speech before the Federal assembly at Dakar. Fritz, Jim and Pan had been working on their MS with some of the mechanics when they heard about the broadcast. Pan blew a lopsided smoke ring and grunted, "If you ask me that stuff about humans moving to space is BS, but Char Aznable is a slick son of a b*tch,". One of the techs close to Pan chuckled at the sarcastic compliment and Heyden took another drag from his cigarette. "Liked that one, did ya?"

*Why won't people understand that their horizons will be expanded by moving into space?*

Fritz rubbed his chin and then shook his head, "I knew there was something sketchy about that Quattro Bajeena, but I think he's on to something. Humans are killing the earth and each other. We're stuck in a loop fighting like children,". Pan worked his hand like a flapping mouth, "Blah blah blah blah. Too much talk with these guys,". Jim gave a halfhearted chuckle. "The true aspirations of Zeon..." he thought, looking around him at the men in overalls and modified Federation uniforms. "Souls weighed down by gravity,". These men couldn't appreciate Casval Deikun's true message.

*But now, humanity must leave the nursery behind. Our infancy has come to an end. Tell me why, at this turning point in our history must we fight amongst each other and further pollute the Earth?*

"Let's stop pussyfooting around and stomp these dirtbags then!" Pan said, letting his chair clatter back down onto all four legs, "It's always the same. We get the Titans reeling and then back off,". Fritz shook his head and said, "That's not what this is about. Listen to what he's saying,". The view cut to the battle outside the building and elicited some whistles and other praise from the men watching. Part of Jim wished they would just level Dakar and set an example for all earthnoids.

DECEMBER 7, 0087 - AMMAN

A lunar news channel's fuzzy footage of the devastated Side 2, 18th Bunch colony had drawn the attention of everyone near the battered old TV set in the Dervish's hangar. Long trails of debris snaked out of the sides where the Gryps laser had penetrated all the way through the cylinder. Team 1 happened to be onboard for a meeting when the news worked its way through the ship. "Just think about what that thing could do to a city on the moon..." Fritz muttered. MacAlpin's jaw set at the thought of an entire lunar city being vaporized. "He's more worried about his family than the spacenoids that could be killed by that thing," he thought, frowning at the idea of the Gryps laser being used multiple times. It was just another threat the earthnoids could hold over the heads of the colonists.

Michiko covered her mouth with her hand and teared up at the footage coming from Hatte. "Eh..." Pan muttered cynically, "Most of those Side 2 colonies are helping us. Looks like the Titans finally wised up and brought the hammer down. Plus, they had to test the thing, right?". He flicked a cigarette butt at the television. Jim looked at Pan, wide-eyed, fighting the urge to speak up. "So the ends justify the means. The AEUG are just like the Federation - they use spacenoids for their own benefit but they won't lift a finger to defend them from something like this," he thought, his hands balling into fists. Fritz shook his head and commented, "They're sending the AEUG a message that they're not afraid to use it,".

Jim's eyes narrowed at his teammates' comments. "Neither of them really care about those people. They're too concerned with themselves and the AEUG. This war should be about forcing the people of earth to leave spacenoids alone. We could be doing so much to continue the work Zeon started..."

DECEMBER 14, 0087 - AMMAN

"Hey! Have you guys heard about the gas attack?" asked Tony, one of the younger mechanics. He quieted down when he saw that it looked like he had interrupted what was about to erupt into a fistfight between Fritz and Pan in Team 1's ready room. "S-sorry, guys," he said, backing out of the room. "You can't tell me you don't get why the Titans did it. Those chumps at 21st Bunch were going to repair our ships, and they've been helping the AEUG for months. They took a chance and paid the price," Pan said, folding his arms defiantly. Fritz responded with a glare, "I can't understand why they'd risk sparking new revolts in the colonies. I'm starting to get worried about the Titans' brazenness in these attacks. They're killing off millions of people just for a chance to hurt our support structure,".

Jim let the mechanic leave without saying anything. The way Fritz and Pan were posturing at each other made him angry and disillusioned with the way his life was going. He had been corrected months ago about this not being the 'anti-earth' union group, but he still felt like the AEUG could and should do more. He was appalled neither man seemed more upset about the deaths of so many spacenoids. He knew Fritz was just saying what he was to make a point - he had been a Manhunter after all. What did either of them care about spacenoids?

"Sounds to me like the Titans just know how to get a job done when they see a problem. More than I can say for our little AEUG. If we found a way to hit the Titans hard we'd waste a month talking it over in committee before attacking," Pan grumbled. He'd made clear his dissatisfaction with the AEUG's methods for a long time. "We coulda had this war won already if we weren't so afraid to fight it," he said brashly, jutting his chin out and inching closer to Fritz. "Indiscriminate killing isn't going to get them anywhere. That sort of thing just makes us stronger. And if you think everyone in the AEUG is afraid of a fight you're wrong," Fritz said, returning Pan's veiled threat.

DECEMBER 27, 0087 - AMMAN

The day before, Axis had held up their end of a secret agreement with the AEUG to destroy the engines of Gryps 2. Team 1 lounged in the Dervish's hangar as they watched the shipment from Anaheim Electronics being unloaded. "I still don't like the idea of cooperation with the Zabiists. I thought it was a bad idea when we tried to talk to them back in October," Fritz said as he finished off a pouch of coffee. Pan took a bite of his hamburger and shrugged, "Blowing the crap out of Gryps was pretty useful if you ask me. They might be handy to keep around for dirty work,". Fritz frowned and crumpled his trash into a ball. "Axis turned on the Titans when it was beneficial to them. What makes you think they'll stay honest with us?" he asked. Pan's brows knitted and he replied gruffly, "If they try to screw us over they'll pay the price,".

Jim's grip on his container of water tightened. "Hypocrites," he thought, "Fighting for the spacenoids and not really giving a damn about them. Pretending to believe in contolism and resisting its true meaning,". He looked at Fritz and Pan, the two men who had acted as his friends and mentors. Acted. Opposing opinions. Opposing personalities. Both of them seemed like they had gradually grown to despise one another. Jim was starting to feel the same way.

**A customer enters an electronics shop.**Jerid: Hello, I wish to register a complaint.**Kamille does not respond.** Jerid: Hello, Miss? Kamille: What do you mean "miss"? Jerid: I'm sorry, I have a cold. I wish to make a complaint! Kamille: We're closing for lunch. Jerid: Never mind that, my lad. I wish to complain about this Haro what I purchased not half an hour ago from this very boutique. Kamille: Oh yes, the, uh, the Generation II... What's, uh ...What's wrong with it? Jerid: I'll tell you what's wrong with it, my lad. He's dead, that's what's wrong with it! Kamille: No, no, he's uh,...he's resting. Jerid: Look, matey, I know a dead Haro when I see one, and I'm looking at one right now. Kamille: No, no, he's not dead, he's, he's resting! Remarkable robot, the Generation II, isn‘t it, eh? Beautiful paint job! Jerid: The paint job don't enter into it. It's stone dead. Kamille: No, no, no, no! No, no! He's resting! Jerid: All right then, if he's resting, I'll wake him up! **shouting at the Haro** Hello, Mister Genki Haro! I've got some lovely brain waves for you to read if you show... **Kamille hits the counter.**Kamille: There, he moved! Jerid: No, he didn't, that was you hitting the counter! Kamille: I never!! Jerid: Yes, you did! Kamille: I never, never did anything... Jerid:**yelling and hitting the Haro repeatedly** HELLO HARO!!!!! Testing! Testing! Testing! Testing! This is your nine o'clock alarm call! **He picks the Haro up and thumps its face on the counter. He throws it up in the air and watches it plummet to the floor.**Jerid: Now that's what I call a dead Haro. Kamille: No, no.....No, he's stunned! Jerid: STUNNED?!? Kamille: Yeah! You stunned him, just as he was waking up! Generation II’s stun easily, major. Jerid: Um... now look... now look, mate, I've definitely had enough of this. That Haro is definitely broken, and when I purchased it not half an hour ago, you assured me that its total lack of movement was due to it being tired and shagged out following a prolonged roll. Kamille: Well, he's... he's, ah...probably pining for the Lagrange Points. Jerid:PINING for the LAGRANGE POINTS?!?! What kind of talk is that? Look, why did his arms flop right out of his case the moment I got him home? Kamille: The Generation II prefers leaving its arms out! Remarkable robot, isn‘t it, squire? Lovely paint job! Jerid: Look, I took the liberty of examining that Haro when I got it home, and I discovered the only reason that it had been sitting upright in the first place was that it had been BOLTED there. **pause**Kamille: Well, of course it was bolted there! If I hadn't bolted that Haro down, it would have nuzzled up to a mobile suit, bent the hatch apart with its flaps, and VOOM! Feeweeweewee! Jerid: "VOOM"?!? Mate, this Haro wouldn't "voom" if you put four million volts through it! He's bleedin' demised! Kamille: No, no! He's pining! Jerid: He's not “pining“! He's shut down! This Haro is no more! He has ceased to function! He's expired and gone to meet his maker! He's a wreck! Bereft of power, he rests in pieces! If you hadn't bolted him to a base he'd be cluttering up the junkyard! His central processor is now history! He's no longer genki! He's kicked the bucket, he's shuffled off his inorganic coil, rolled up the gangplank and joined the bleedin' crew invisible!! THIS IS AN EX-HARO!! **pause**Kamille: Well, I'd better replace it, then. **he takes a quick peek behind the counter** Sorry squire, I've had a look around the back of the shop, and uh, we're right out of Haros. Jerid: I see. I see, I get the picture. Kamille: I got a Birdy. **pause**Jerid: Pray, is it UC? Kamille: N-not really. Jerid: WELL IT'S HARDLY A BLOODY REPLACEMENT, IS IT?!!???!!? Kamille: N-no, I guess not. **gets ashamed, looks at his feet** Jerid: Well. **pause** Kamille (quietly): D'you.... d'you want to come back to my place? Jerid: **looks around** Yeah, all right, sure.

"Hnn," Black Friday murmured in irritation, "Where is the third one? The corporal,". He looked up and down the hallway outside the brig again and neatly straightened the collar of his uniform; his breathing slowed as he listened intently to get a feel for the surrounding area. One of the two grim looking men accompanying him answered, "He went to the bridge to summon their captain while you were inside,". Friday looked over his shoulder and his eyes narrowed slightly, his voice gaining a harsh edge as he asked, "Why didn't you stop him?". The third man fidgeted nervously and said, "We couldn't leave the other two alone here. Besides, their captain isn't our busin--". "It is your business, Saad, if you care about your sister," Friday growled, causing the two soldiers to shrink back. Saad's expression hardened and his vision dropped to the deck. Black turned to face them both and continued angrily in a hushed tone, "If that guard opens his mouth to anyone other than Andrewson Trent, you two are done. Done,". He stabbed Saad in the chest with his finger and threatened, "And you can forget about your family,". "And you, Rhys," he said, grabbing the other man's uniform collar, "Can count on your dirty secrets being advertised to the earthsphere,". The two men winced, not from the verbal assault but from the headaches they suddenly developed. A familiar smothering pressure that felt like it came from inside their own head.

The pressure mercifully abated as Black turned expectantly just in time for Capt. Trent and the missing corporal to step out of the lift at the end of the hall. "What the hell is going on down here?" Trent rasped as he tried to keep his voice down. Friday glided forward, his incongruous smile immediately putting Trent ill at ease. "Andrewson," Black raised his hand to stop Trent, his voice once again smarmy and unctuous. He met the captain halfway to the lift and kept him from going any further, allowing the corporal to pass him. "Why did you have the guards turn off the cameras and recording equipment in the interrogation room?" Trent asked as Black gently put a hand on his arm and turned with him to head back to the lift. Friday nodded at the question, appearing to understand the captain's concern, "I know it was an unusual request, but you'll understand in due time,". Trent looked back to see the corporal stopped in confused hesitation near the door to the brig. "I've resolved the situation with Capt. Trent, thank you corporal," Black said as he escorted the captain into the lift. "Sir, do you..." CPL Sonman began to ask as Rhys and Saad quickly and roughly ushered him back into the brig. As the door slid closed, Trent heard what sounded like a muffled gunshot.

"God damn it, what is this?" Trent hissed, turning to Black as the lift began to move, "Did you just kill one of my men?". Black gazed straight ahead at the lights passing by as they slowly changed decks. "Three of them, actually," he admitted casually. Trent's face turned red, and he grabbed Friday by the arm and demanded, "Stop screwing around with me - you didn't come here to deliver orders and talk to a prisoner. Killing my crew is not casting your lot in the best light,". Black angrily jerked his arm out of Trent's grasp, his calm expression turning much darker as he turned to the Kirov's captain. "You are in no position to ask me questions, Andrewson, and it's in your best interest to never do so again. Did you or did you not agree to help us?" he said, his jaw jutting out as he made his point. When Trent did not protest, he turned back to face the door and continued more calmly, "The female AEUG pilot you took prisoner at the Gate of Zedan is dead,". Trent scoffed and said, "What are you talking about?". Black repeated and clarified, "The female pilot attempted escape during my interrogation and killed three guards in the brig before succumbing to wounds she sustained,". Trent shook his head and grumbled, "And I suppose the records reflect that,". Friday warned in an amiable tone, "That's all you need to know,". If Trent wondered about Tariq or anyone else aware of Pan's capture, he kept his mouth shut.

"You have a pilot named Nick Te'Litha. Where is he now?" Black asked, abruptly changing the subject. Trent opened his mouth to speak and then haltingly stopped himself from asking why Friday wanted to know. His jaw worked, and he answered after a moment of irritated teeth grinding, "I think he's still in sick bay. He has... episodes. He takes medication for it but he can't always feel them coming on,". Black reached out and deftly changed the elevator controls to stop them at the deck sick bay was on. Trent scoffed and shook his head, "I suppose I don't need to know about this, either,". Capt. Friday's chuckle echoed in the small space and he said, "You're learning,". The lift stopped and the door slid open, and Trent spoke up again as Black glided away, "I'd prefer it if we didn't conduct our business in person any more,". Friday turned back, and after staring at Trent for a moment he relented, "As you wish, Andrewson. I should be in contact with you again within a week,". The officer from the Jupitris watched Trent's glare disappear from view as the door closed and the lift headed up towards the bridge. With all of his planned business on the Kirov finished, he headed for the entrance to sick bay to follow up on information he had gathered since coming aboard.

"Hello, uh, captain," one of the nurses greeted him quietly as he stopped to scan the room, "Can I help you?". He frowned slightly, not expecting to see so many of the ship's crew taking up beds. At least 10 MPs and assorted ship security guards were occupying beds, all of them looking like they had been in minor car accidents. "Hmm," Friday murmured as he finally spotted Nick on the far side of the room. "Yes, sir. They've all come in within the last 2 days after dealing with that prisoner," the nurse clucked, assuming he was reacting to all the injured soldiers. Black remarked in an offhand way, "The prisoner is dead," as he moved past the nurse in Nick's direction, and she gasped quietly at the news. Ignoring the nurse and the conscious soldiers curiously watching him cross the bay, he arrived near Nick's spot after noting that his bed was far enough away from the occupied ones that they could talk quietly without being overheard. He waited until he knew Nick had noticed him and then came to a stop next to his bedside and crossed his arms. Te'Litha eyed the unfamiliar officer over, and sounding unimpressed with what he saw asked, "Who are you?". He was obviously still in pain from his latest attack and looked annoyed.

This one would be more cooperative, Black could feel it. "I could be your best friend, Lt. Te'Litha, if you're willing to listen to me. I'm Capt. Black Friday, from the Jupitris," he said, introducing himself in a neutral tone. He decided to hold back until he confirmed what Tariq had told him. "And to what do I owe this honor?" Nick asked, intrigued, as he sat up with a grimace. If nothing else he figured he could not be bored for a few minutes and take his mind off the pain. Friday could feel that pain emanating from Nick, and he smiled slightly. The friendly expression looked foreboding coming from him. With his arms still crossed, Black drummed his fingers on his arm and offered, "Tariq Sayed is investigating you. Why?". "Oh, you know," Nick replied with an air of casualness that hid his growing unease about the direction this was taking, "he wants to frame me for murder of a certain Wolf Ritter, Sr. so he can raise his station and curry favor with that bunch a loonies. They needed a scapegoat and I was a prime candidate for it,". The lie came so naturally that Nick was half believing of it himself. Friday was pleasantly surprised that Nick's actions apparently included more than a vague anti-Bask sentiment, but he didn't visually react. If he really had something to do with the elder Ritter's death, Friday should shake Nick's hand for doing half his job for him.

"Interesting," he muttered as he glanced to make sure they were still not being listened to. He turned back to Nick and said, "It sounds like Lt. Sayed and the Ritters are a problem for the both of us,". From Nick's perspective the room seemed to darken slightly as Friday reached out with his mind. Black felt the pressure snaking into Nick's head as he suggested, "You might be able to help me solve our problem,". Nick was reminded of that pilot who asked "Who are you?" back at the Gate of Zedan, half hearing and half an echo at the back of his skull. "How so?" he asked Black, now curious to the proposition. Friday held up a hand and said, "First - do you know who Paptimus Scirocco is?". Nick deadpanned, "Commander of the Jupitris and MS enthusiast, why?". The captain tilted his head slightly to the side and explained, "Jamitov Hymem and Bask Om have set the Titans on a course that will lead them to total destruction. I think you probably hold their ilk in the same regard as Lt. Sayed and the Ritters. The good news is their time is coming to an end,". He unfolded his arms and gestured as he continued, "I say 'lead them' because my loyalty lies with Scirocco, and there are many more like me; but there are people who stand in our way. People other than Jamitov and Bask. The Ritter family has grown too powerful for their own good, and they might pose a threat to us,".

Nick responded with a pained smile, "You want someone to uh, 'remove the threat' don't you?". He decided to go out on a limb and 'trust' Friday. "You want me to finish the job I started with daddy dearest, right?" Te'Litha asked, sounding eager. He seemed to be so close to what he wanted that he could almost taste it. Black shrugged slightly and said, "Wolf Ritter and his family must not be allowed to achieve their goals. However their undoing occurs is inconsequential, but you could be useful,". He felt the pressure withdraw a little as he talked calmly with Nick - this one wasn't as resistant as the last. "The only thing I want to hear from you right now is that you'll help us," he said. Nick grunted happily, "Sure, where do I sign?". Friday nodded, "I'll hold you to your word, Nick. I'll be in contact with you again once Echo reaches Gryps,". Then he leaned in much closer and his expression changed dramatically, and to Nick the lights appeared to dim again until the area immediately beyond his bed and Capt. Friday sick bay was covered in writhing darkness as if a sickly spotlight was cast on him. "Your enthusiasm is appreciated," Black said, his voice sounding almost distorted and distant, "But you need to understand something,".

He reached out with his pressure and twisted Nick's pain until the 'episode' flared up again with its full vigor. "Don't screw with me, Nick Te'Litha. And don't make me regret this conversation or I'll make you regret being born," he said, his voice piercing into Nick's mind. As the darkness began to lift and Black left Nick to his own physical pain, to Te'Litha his mouth continued to move and he felt a whisper - "The colony drop was nothing compared to what I can do to you,". As agony set upon him again Nick was forced to laugh mockingly at the words just spoken, an empty threat. His pink haired phantom looked silently on the two of them. Friday was a man who had never loved; he could tell because the drop had taken everything from him. His snake within also laughed with joy at the chance to finally rid the world of that insufferable bastard Wolf and his ilk. So he laughed hysterically until the shaking set back in, until he couldn't breathe, until he blacked out once more. One of the nurses rushed over as Black moved to leave, and she asked, "What did you do?!". Friday glanced in her direction and waved her question away, explaining, "Lt. Te'Litha was delirious. When he wakes up, I want you to make sure to tell him that the prisoner taken at Zedan is dead,". The nurse shrank back, wary of the vibe she got from him. "Yes, sir," she murmured, moving clear out of his path in the hopes that he would leave faster. "Make sure you don't forget to tell him that," Capt. Friday said, making sure she made eye contact with him, "He must understand the prisoner has been killed,". She nodded vigorously and said, "Yes, captain, I understand. But the lieutenant needs to rest now," but Friday was already headed for the exit.

A single armed guard 'paced' up and down the lonely hallway that connected to all of the cells in the ship's brig. As he passed Pan Heyden's new quarters, he glanced in the Judas slit to make sure the AEUG prisoner wasn't up to anything - the rest of the cells were currently empty, making the brig guards' job fairly easy. "For the life of me I can't figure out where he keeps getting cigarettes," one of the men 'guarding' the entrance commented, not looking up from his comic book. The armed soldier stopped and chuckled, "Yeah, but he didn't get to enjoy the last one,". Pan reached out and lazily flipped him off, eliciting another wicked laugh. Heyden still bore the bumps and bruises he had earned from Nada during his initial resistance, but there were fresher marks on his face including a nasty looking shiner that had swollen one of his eyes shut. For the first couple of days it seemed like every time they turned their back he managed to produce a new lit cigarette, no matter how many times they searched him. "Out of magic tricks?" the soldier smirked, taunting Pan as he moved on when the wall phone began to beep for their attention.

The lack of gravity allowed him to approach the jingling wall handset upside down relative to the way it was mounted, and he twisted the receiver around as he responded to the comm tone. The two other soldiers loitering near the brig's entrance didn't look up from their reading material as he answered the call from the bridge; "Cpl. Sonman, brig,". He listened for several seconds and then nodded and responded, "Right. We'll get him ready,". The quieter of the two readers at the guard station finally looked up from his girlie magazine with noticeable annoyance and asked, "Lt. Sayed wanna talk to our pal one more time?". Sonman nodded and said, "Sounds like it. Fyodor asked us to put him in the interrogation room again,". The men at the door left their post with groans of protest at the thought of forcing Pan into the questioning area for a fourth time, and Sonman put his rifle away, silently agreeing with them. Dealing with Heyden was like trying to control an irritable child, complete with violent tantrums. They took up positions at the door to his cell, and Sonman passed handcuffs through the slit.

"Just cooperate this time," he halfheartedly demanded. The command sounded a lot more like a tired plea than it had on the first day. Pan snatched the cuffs out of the air and looked them over before clicking them into place on his wrists. The guards warily looked at each other, surprised he complied with the request on the first attempt after the last few wrestling matches they had endured. Pvt. Skin Mag punched in the code key and was the first to tentatively enter after the door slid open. "You know where to go," he said, gesturing out the door to the room across the hall. Pan hesitated as if he was sizing him up and then made a feint of a lunge at the guard, causing him to flinch and raise his hands to protect himself. Heyden cackled at the guard's reaction as Sonman and the other soldier grabbed him by the arms and hauled him towards the interrogation room.

- Bridge -

"Sir!" Chief Kellman gruffly came to attention and saluted the officer that slithered onto the bridge. Captain Trent floated down from his command chair and added his own salute that was waved away. "I didn't expect you to come in person. Or so soon," Trent said, a little surprised. As soon as he was notified the incoming launch had landed, Trent had felt a mixture of trepidation and nausea that he couldn't explain. Now he knew why. Capt. Black Friday clasped his hands behind his back and allowed that off-putting smile of his to surface, causing Trent to perceive the beginnings of a headache. "I like to take care of things personally, Andrewson, you know that. I wouldn't be here if it wasn't worth my time," Black said as he looked around the bridge as if he expected someone else to be there. Trent swallowed and noticed how dry his mouth had gotten. He crossed his arms, trying to project more confidence, and offered, "We received the request you sent from the Jupitris on the 18th,". Black's vision snapped back to Trent and he pressed, "'We'?". Trent straightened up and corrected himself, "I received your request, sir,".

The two men stared at each other, and Trent got the unsettling impression that Friday was looking past his eyes. He felt like he could all but hear Black say "And?" - he could even imagine seeing his mouth moving clear as day as if it were really happening. "I complied with your orders, sir. The main fleet has not been notified," Trent answered the unspoken question, hoping to divert some of the pressure he felt in his head. Friday smiled again, a false, evil expression. "I'm glad we understand each other," he nodded, reaching into his coat. The gesture sent a chill down Trent's spine even though he knew it was completely harmless. Friday produced several sets of sealed orders and personnel folders and handed them over. "What is this?" Trent asked as he looked through he pile of folders. As far as he knew there should be at most one set of written orders. Friday looked around again like he was trying to find someone and then answered in a low voice, "Six sets of transfer papers for replacement pilots and crew, for starters; I had Taskforce Echo bumped to the top of the reinforcement list. Don't concern yourself with who they are. The rest is your fleet's new positioning and duty orders,". Trent's eyes narrowed in suspicion and he asked, "Who authorized this?". He knew the answer, but he wanted Black to say it.

Capt. Friday remained quiet for a moment seemingly thinking it over before he shrugged slightly and answered straightforwardly, "Paptimus Scirocco,". Trent shot quick glances to both sides of the bridge to see if anyone was listening to their conversation. So it was true. Scirocco was issuing orders in secret to Titans personnel that had been scouted out by his goons. And the chief goon was onboard Trent's ship for important business. Whatever the new orders said, they would doubtlessly contradict whatever Bask demanded of Echo at Gryps 2. Trent knew he had just made the decision for the entire taskforce to step across the threshold into a dangerous gray area. Black cleared his throat, calling Trent's attention back to the business at hand. "Your men are ready for me in the brig," Friday said - it didn't seem to be a question. Trent nodded and responded, "I had word sent ahead when we detected your launch. They should be ready by now,".

- Brig -

The entrance to the brig slid open with a hiss a few minutes later, and Friday left his two companions behind as he entered to find Tariq Sayed arguing with the guards. "Why has the prisoner been prepared for interrogation again? I did not request--" he angrily demanded before he trailed off at the sight of Black. "Capt. Friday..." he said, barely hiding his dislike for the man, "I was not aware you had come aboard,". Black craned his neck to look past Tariq at the closed door of the interrogation room, and then answered, "That's because my business here is none of yours,". His tone was hard but not overtly rude. Tariq scowled and removed his sunglasses as he shot back, "What happens on this ship is my business, sir. Particularly if it involves my prisoner. What are you doing here?". Friday reached into his coat again, giving the same uneasy feeling to the other men in the room like Trent had felt on the bridge. He pulled out another very official and important-looking set of sealed papers and held them out, waiting for Tariq to take them. "What have you gotten your owner to scribble for you this time?" Tariq asked pointedly as he took the papers and tore open the seal. His eyes darted down the page as he read, and he muttered, "What is this...?". He flipped to the second page, still looking dubious and unmoved as he scanned the written order.

"This means nothing..." Sayed said, but his expression changed dramatically when he got to the bottom and read the signatures. The guards looked just as surprised as he did, and a little put off at the strange show of emotion from the stoic intelligence officer. "Bask Om and Jamitov Hymem?!" he hissed, looking up at Black. Friday nodded, a hint of his smile showing. Tariq cursed in Arabic and reached up to rub his forehead. "I must confess I am still skeptical, Capt. Friday," he said, finally regaining most of his composure, "But this certainly changes things,". He looked at the guards with an air of distrust and then turned back to Black and suggested, "Perhaps we should discuss this outside,". "Can we keep this brief?" Black suggested as he glided into the hallway behind Tariq. The two men who had been with Black waited down by the lift, watching intently. "I am not in a position to question Bask Om or Admiral Jamitov... but I am to believe you were placed on the Jupitris to investigate Paptimus Scirocco and you haven't been caught?" Sayed asked in a hushed tone to keep anyone from hearing them. Friday straightened the collar of his uniform and responded, "Yes," in a casual tone. Tariq scoffed and shook his head, "The signatures looked legitimate, but they can be forged. I beg your pardon, captain, but I intend to double check the orders when I get the chance. In the meantime you can tell me what my prisoner has to do with your investigation; this seems like a trip outside your realm of influence,".

Friday leaned forward slightly, initially amusing Tariq as what he perceived to be a poor attempt at intimidation. But as Black began to speak, a deep-seated fear began to grow in him that he couldn't explain. It sounded as if the distant rumble of the engines slowly intensified until the sound was coming from inside his own mind, and a baleful pressure weighed down on his consciousness that put him off his game entirely. "I know you're doing investigations of your own," Friday bluffed, "This pilot is only coincidentally involved in yours through combat conditions. I believe he's directly involved in mine. I'm going to speak to him - when I'm finished I may turn him back over to you,". Sayed slipped his sunglasses back on and nodded slightly. "Lt. Nick Te'Litha is my main goal at the moment... but I've also been instructed to build a case against Capt. Trent. This has come from Bask Om's office as well. I'm sure they can confirm your work with them," he murmured. That was information Friday filed away for use later. "Whatever you consider appropriate," Black aqcuiesed as he turned back to the brig's door, "I only ask that you wait three days after I conduct my interview with your prisoner. I may have to act on information I gain from him and I can't be tied up with petty and dangerous questions going out over unencrypted channels,". "F-fine," Tariq said nodding crisply as Friday disappeared into the brig. At that point his head hurt enough that he would agree to anything to end the conversation. If he was never in the same room as Black Friday again it would be too soon.

When Black shut the door behind him, he found the three brig guards nervously waiting for orders. "You have cameras and recording equipment in your questioning room?" Black asked, knowing perfectly well that they did. Sonman nodded, and Friday ordered, "Turn them off,". "W-what?" one of the other men asked, "That's not standard procedure,". Friday's expression hardened and he repeated a little more forcefully, "Turn them off,". "We can't just do that from here. I mean, the controls are at our station, but we need permission from Lt. Sayed and the captain..." the other private spoke up. He trailed off as Capt. Friday glided closer until less than a foot separated them. The soldier saw Friday's mouth move and heard in his head a raspy voice, "...I can make you disappear...". The color drained from the guard's face, and he let out a sharp breath. The other two looked as if they hadn't seen or heard Black say anything. The other guards looked at each other to see if anyone would object further, and then the corporal nodded fearfully and headed for the guard station to comply with the request. The officer from the Jupitris approached the interrogation room door, and then stopped to look at the guards again causing them to shrink back instinctively for reasons they didn't understand. "Another thing - please leave the brig and don't disturb me until I'm finished. Don't come in here unless you're summoned," he said, making himself perfectly clear. The guards all nodded and practically scrambled for the door, none of them daring to question him again.

Once the three soldiers from the brig were in the hallway and the door closed behind them, Friday turned back to the interrogation room. The door opened with a hiss revealing a well-tenderized Pan Heyden gingerly resting in the far corner with a lit cigarette hanging from his mouth, a large shit-eating grin on his face. A wisp of smoke lazily floated towards the vent in the ceiling as Pan reacted to Black's entrance with a long catcall of a whistle. The well dressed captain frowned slightly, at Heyden's jeering reaction and the fact that he had managed to escape his restraints and "find" another cigarette. Black shut the door behind him and gestured at the chair Heyden had been strapped to when the guards last saw him, beckoning for him to sit back down. Heyden grunted slightly when he pushed off the wall and he mumbled "Damned if I do, damned if I don't," with a shrug as he made his way back to the chair. He strapped himself back into the seat with the lap restraint and slouched back lazily as he took a long, noisy drag on his smoke. After removing his ruined, partially melted normal suit on the 18th (which of course meant another fight), the guards had given him a standard issue set of prisoner boxers and an undershirt that already showed several rust-colored patches of blood. The beatings he had taken over the last 48 hours were even more apparent under the harsh ceiling light, and besides his swollen face and head there were marks and bruises down the visible parts of his arms and legs. Tariq Sayed was thorough, that was for sure.

Instead of immediately speaking, Friday stared at Pan and let the room fill with a heavy silence. He watched Pan's movements, the way he stared back with no obvious trepidation. Black could feel the pressure washing over the AEUG pilot and he was impressed, if only slightly, at how the man's sheer stubbornness served as a crude resistance. After several seconds of silence, Pan frowned and said, "You gonna keep wasting my time? I could be napping in my cell right now,". Friday reached for his coat pocket and pulled out a beat up piece of paper that he unfolded and held up as he compared the picture on it to Pan. "Pan Heyden," he finally spoke, satisfied with the identification, "Discharged from the EFSF in January 0084,". He folded the paper back up and put it back in his pocket as he continued, "Interesting. Your file says it was an honorable discharge, but I happened to find some records that suggest that you had charges against you dropped in March of that year,". He straightened his coat's collar and mused, "Now why would the military wait two months to drop nonexistent charges against a pilot that was given an honorable discharge? Someone kept sloppy records, Mr. Heyden,". Pan didn't seem impressed. He snorted, "If you wanted to talk about military court proceedings why don't you go capture and torture a lawyer?". Black cut to the chase and snapped back, "Because you're a murderer, Pan. And right now I'm looking for murderers, not liars,". He pushed away from the wall and pulled himself into the seat across from Pan. "Were you or were you not involved in a friendly fire incident in 0083?" he asked pointedly.

Pan squinted and took another drag on his smoke before he answered, "Yes, it was a rough morning. I was half awake. My mother kept phoning and telling me that I have to get married throughout the week so I was in a bad mood. It was the day of the naval review. I was in charge of the nuclear armaments. I was at my post, then suddenly a cat jumped on my lap and I hit a switch somehow firing a nuke at all those good men,". Friday did not return Pan's defiant smile. "236 men," Black said, almost nonchalantly. Pan squirmed a little in his seat, his smile turning into a glare. Sounding more irritated, he asked "Yeah, so why you asking questions when you clearly know the answer? I know the Federation stopped supporting you guys... So what are you gonna do, huh? Fine me?". The captain leaned back a little to let Pan calm down. "I know lots of things," he said, satisfied with Pan's reactions so far. He had an impression that Heyden was a tough individual, but he wasn't proud of his past. That suited Friday's purposes just fine. He decided to continue with his business, ignoring Pan's retorts and asking bluntly, "Have you heard of a man named Paptimus Scirocco?". Pan shrugged, "I know enough to shoot the bastard if I see 'im. Is that enough?". Black folded his hands in his lap and said, "I'm afraid not,". He let the pressure intensify, pushing back at Heyden's bravado. He explained, "The Titans have been driven to the edge of oblivion under Jamitov Hymem and Bask Om. I'm sure we feel roughly the same way about men like Bask. Their time is coming to an end,". Pan reached out and butted his cigarette out on the table between them and quipped, "No ZOINKS. We just rammed the crap out of Zedan,".

"There is no 'we' any more for you, Pan," Black said, leaning forward again, "The AEUG and everything else is in your past now. There are two ways you can leave this room: cooperating with me, or dead,". He reached into his coat again and pulled out a cigarette and lighter and held them just out of Pan's reach so he would have to take them, while he warned, "Paptimus Scirocco is the only chance you've got at leaving this room with your brain still in your skull,". Black's poisonous smile returned as Pan reached out casually to take the cigarette and lighter. He lit the cigarette and inhaled slowly, grunting, "Go on...". Friday nodded, "Paptimus is not your enemy. He hasn't murdered millions and turned spacenoids and earthnoids against one another. If a man like him were to gain control of the Titans and put us to proper use, we could end this war and change the earthsphere,". He put his elbows on the table and laced his fingers together as he leaned forward, "Whether you believe it or not, change is coming. But there are people who stand in our way. People other than Jamitov and Bask,". Heyden frowned, the look on his face making it obvious he thought Black was outright insane. "He sounds like a real peach, man, but how is he better then any other person? And what good is a 'murderer' to him? Couldn't he just talk his problems out if he is so great?" he asked, flicking ash into the air. "He's capable of so much more than normal people," Friday said, before shaking his head. He didn't need to waste his time turning Pan into a believer.

"There are times when great men need the services of men like you, Pan, because things are past the point of talking," he said, producing another folded picture. This one was held up so that Pan could see the person in it. "This person is a pilot on this ship. Do you know the name Ritter?" he asked, his expression darkening again. Pan studied the picture for a moment. Of course he remembered the name Ritter. He took an educated guess "Wolfy boy ain't it?". The man from the Jupitris nodded, "That's right. Wolf Ritter XXV,". He put the picture away and rested his hands flat on the table, "The truth is, Pan, I don't care what you believe or how you feel about the Titans. You're going to help me kill him,". Heyden raised an eyebrow. Killing Wolf wouldn't be so bad to be honest. "So if I don't kill this guy, you'll kill me right now... Anything in this for me if I agree?" Pan asked. Friday tilted his head slightly and said, "You get to live a little while longer, and for once in your life you'll be doing some good for someone other than yourself, even if you don't understand it,". His eyes narrowed and he added after a moment, "And I don't have to bother your mother or those sisters of yours,". Pan took a slow breath and his jaw set. "ZOINKS you. I'll do it," he grunted, and Black rose from his seat. "Trust me, Pan, Wolf Ritter and his family must die. If they achieve their goal and take control of the Titans and the Federation, we'll be undone. One family's power grab cannot stand in the way of what Paptimus wants to achieve for humanity."

He pulled white officer's gloves out of his pocket and slipped them on, making sure they were straight and covered his hands and wrists entirely. He turned and opened the door to the interrogation room, and then stopped and looked back over his shoulder at Pan. "You'll do what I tell you from now on, and you're not to ask questions. If you cause trouble for us at any point I'll have you and your family eliminated," he warned. He turned around and buttoned up the front of his overcoat. The room seemed to darken, the bright light overhead even flickered as a whisper snarled directly into Pan's consciousness, "Don't try me, Pan. You won't get a warning,". Capt. Friday floated away from the room, the door open and Pan left to his own devices. Black made his way to the front of the brig and pulled CPL Sonman's submachine gun off of the rack he had set it in and removed the safety. As he moved back towards the questioning room he flatly cautioned, "You might want to stay behind me," before he recalled the missing brig guards. The two privates hesitantly reentered the brig, and barely had time for confusion to sink in before the door hissed closed behind them. Friday raised the gun and coldly gunned them down with two short bursts; then he sprayed the wall behind them and turned back to Pan to fire into the back wall of the interrogation room. He let the gun go, and as it floated away from him he leapt into action.

He pulled his gloves off and stuffed them back into his pocket, and removed the overcoat and turned it inside out before folding it and carrying it over his arm. He moved closer to the guard station, avoiding most of the blood that was collecting in small blobs in the air near the door where the two corpses floated, and came to a stop at the brig's computer station. Deftly going to work, he pulled a disc out of his tunic pocket and inserted it into the computer, activating a preprogrammed sequence. He looked up with knit brows as the door slid open, and his two accomplices glided in. One of them carried a bundle of clothing and a pair of boots, which he tossed in Pan's direction. "Put the uniform on," Black instructed, pressing a key sequence into the computer. He jerked the disc out of the drive and then nodded at the other man, who stepped in and smashed the console. Friday handed his overcoat to one of the soldiers and took a moment to brush his uniform off and straighten his collar and cuffs. As Pan pulled on the Titans uniform he had been given, Black explained, "The female AEUG prisoner just died in an escape attempt. I just altered the Kirov's records so you can lay low until I give you new instructions. Go into cell 4 and we'll lock you in when we leave - don't speak to anyone. You're now a crewman who was thrown into the brig for drunkenness and fighting. If anyone is stupid enough to ask, your name for the time being is PO2 Lee York. But they won't,".

Friday turned to his men and ordered, "Put them in body bags and get ready for cleanup after we find the other guard,". After Pan glided into his new cell, one of the men locked the door behind him. Black gestured to the two soldiers and introduced them for Pan's benefit, "This is Saad and Rhys. They're your new babysitters until I get you moved out of the brig. I need you to give them a list of everyone that has seen you in Titans custody. Describe them if you don‘t know their names,". He went back to the brig entrance and bowed slightly, "I apologize, but I have more business to attend to. Please keep an eye on my friends,". He patted the floating body bags and cackled wickedly. Rhys slammed the cell door's Judas slit shut, closing Pan into his cell.

The thin-lipped and haggard petty officer occupying a missing (and better qualified) tech specialist's uncomfortable chair leaned back to regard with tired irritation the shiny black boot that had abruptly planted itself on the metal railing next to his temporary work station. He took the opportunity to stretch his sore back and give his cheeks a few light slaps to make sure he was still alert and awake.

“If you take too long with that pod, get used to that feeling. But you won't be doing it to yourself,” the owner of the boot snorted, his face contorting into a mocking smirk, “And it'll be just a little bit harder.” As if to illustrate his point, a bang echoed from another corridor closest to the hangar section.

The New Desides had been busy at work since the end of January, but they still needed some of the EFSF personnel stationed at Pezun to keep the base functioning because of their small number and the nature of the work. Luckily enough for the petty officer, the ones that willingly complied with orders from the new masters of the asteroid base were treated fairly well, but he knew exactly what they'd do to him if he stopped being useful or made the mistake of bucking their grip a little too hard.

Still, the Federal petty officer bristled at the threat and laid his hands on the desk before him. He indignantly drew himself up and retorted, “I'm doing this for the New Desides voluntarily, you know. If you want it done right, then stop bothering me. That CAPT Drake was just in here throwing his weight around and now I have to deal with you,”. His hands began to tremble slightly.

The ensign in the dark uniform frowned, deep angry furrows appearing on his brow, as he unfolded his arms and brought his boot down from the railing to the deck with a loud scrape and SMACK. The EFSF soldier jumped a bit despite himself at the noise combined with the other man's threatening posture, but relaxed a bit as the standing figure started chuckling softly.

“If more of the guys here were like you, we wouldn't have had to wipe out the entire garrison,” the ensign in the mock Titans uniform said. The matter-of-fact tone of voice was off-putting. He was, after all, describing the massacre that had happened there less than a month ago. Whoever the man was that had worked this station before was dead, likely killed by some secondary explosion or some of the feeble corridor fighting that had gone on briefly after the EFSF mobile suit force had been annihilated.

The ensign flashed his teeth in a grin again and started to say something else when another New Desides pilot entered the room. “Meeting at 0630,” the new one grunted, barely giving the petty officer a glance. He was more interested in the computer sitting in front of him.

The unit was plugged into a battered box laid next to the work station. Other than its bright color, the only identifiers on it were a small, stylized Federation north star in black and S2-127R 007E1 stenciled on in a plain military fashion. On the computer's screen was a slowly scrolling display of numbers and some kind of user window the New Desides men didn't really understand.

The new officer, a lieutenant that somehow looked more severe and unpleasant than the ensign, straightened his small fatigue cap and turned to leave. “Guadalupe and Doman wanted to speak with you about that Barzam in the far bay, too,” he muttered, cutting his eyes at the petty officer again while he spoke to his compatriot. “Hn,” the ensign nodded, leaning against the doorframe as the lieutenant left. He began to chew the extra skin next to his thumbnail as he watched the Federal soldier go back to work.

“You just get us the data out of that pod. Cray and Josh went to the trouble of hauling them in, and we need to know what those Federation traitors saw before that Nero was destroyed.”